


never any going back

by cyndakip



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: 12x100, Canada Moist Talkers (Blaseball Team), Constrained Writing, Gen, Incineration, Necromancy, feedback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndakip/pseuds/cyndakip
Summary: Twelve 100-word scenes about Hobbs Cain, his best friend, and his regrets.
Relationships: Hobbs Cain & Richmond Harrison
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11
Collections: Canada Moist Talkers Fanfiction





	never any going back

**Author's Note:**

> These 12x100 fics are all the rage these days, so I figured I'd try writing one! Format from [Lewis Attilio's baseball stories](https://pigeonize.medium.com/), brought to blaseball by [crookedsaint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedsaint/pseuds/crookedsaint).
> 
> I wrote, edited, and posted this all within the span of 24 hours, which is the kind of thing I never do, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! I'm also very sad with how it turned out, because it's impossible for me to even think about Hobbs without becoming Overwhelmingly Sad.
> 
> Title from my favourite garages song (aka the one that emotionally destroys me the most), [ablaze](https://thegarages.bandcamp.com/track/ablaze) by azuretone.

1.

Hobbs Cain is Richmond Harrison’s best friend.

It’s the first answer he gives when asked who he is. Before _I’m a Moist Talker._ Before _I’m Canadian_. Before anything. It’s been the answer ever since Richmond’s warbling was indecipherable and he was small enough to sit on Hobbs’ shoulders rather than the other way around. It’s been the answer for so long that Hobbs can barely remember life without Richmond, without the Leviathan keeping careful watch over the two of them, first while playing in the underarena, splashing and laughing, and then years later on the field, still thinking themselves invincible.

2.

They join the Talkers together, Hobbs and Richmond in their matching uniforms, next to each other in the batting order, inseparable as always. They’re not the best players, but, really, neither are most Talkers; they have fun, and that’s what counts. 

And sometimes they bring their team to victory, Richmond on base and Hobbs hitting the ball out of the park, high up into the sky where the distant silhouette of the Leviathan sings her rumbling songs, the triumphant call echoing through the stadium as Hobbs crosses the plate, Richmond lifting him up and carrying him around amid the cheers.

3.

In retrospect, it’s absurd that the reverb initially feels like the end of the world. So what if they aren’t beside each other in the lineup anymore? They learn to make the best of it with walkie-talkies and paper airplane notes. They can still hang out in the outfield, Richmond weaving flower crowns, occasionally reaching up to catch a ball (or, lifting Hobbs so he can catch it). 

It’s not until Hobbs looks up in the feedback and sees Richmond impossibly far away, wearing the wrong jersey, that he starts learning what the end of the world really feels like.

4.

Hobbs Cain is lost.

There are parts of the Underarena that even he doesn’t know, deep twisting tunnels leading to long-forgotten places that maybe should have stayed that way. He scrambles after the Leviathan, trying to keep her in sight, skidding in the dampness.

She’s waiting for him in a dark cavern. He has to pull out a flashlight just to see the object on the pedestal, read the title on the book’s cover.

_The Necronomicon_.

He carries it out with him, plops it down in front of the team. Smiles bitterly.

“Let’s spit in the faces of the gods.”

5.

This place is no longer home. The Leviathan’s cries echo through the cold and empty tunnels. Fish tries to apologize, blinking sad wide eyes, but what good will that do? They’re here. Richmond isn’t.

With Mooney and the others assisting, Hobbs throws himself fully into necromancy, needing something to focus on, some way to keep fighting.

Feedback, though, can’t be fought. Feedback only takes. It’s taken everything already, and so next time the crackling current of static fills the air, he doesn’t try to stop it from taking him, too.

Talkers. Pies. It doesn’t matter. Richmond is still far away.

6.

Hobbs Cain is a necromancer.

He’s done it. Jaylen claws her way out of the ground, shaky and smoking and not the same as she was, but she’s back, she’s alive, the gods took her first and she’s been brought back first. A clear message that they’re not going to take any more.

The Pies don’t celebrate the way the Moist Talkers would. Some of them seem apprehensive, muttering to each other. Looking at Hobbs with awe and maybe a little bit of fear.

He doesn’t care what they think of him. He’s done what he set out to do.

7.

Hobbs isn’t there when his team starts burning. He’s safe in Philly, playing a nice normal game against the Garages, Jaylen watching from the bench, her undead eyes betraying nothing.

He doesn’t have to see them die, but he does anyway, watches the replays, commits them to memory, along with Richmond’s face watching them go up in smoke. Hobbs did this. He didn’t throw a single pitch, didn’t set anyone ablaze, but he might as well have.

He should have known the gods can’t be fought, either. No one can win against them. The Garages’ songs had it all wrong.

8.

She hits Richmond.

Hobbs commits that replay to memory, too. The pitch slamming into his side and bouncing off into the dirt. The way he tries to smile as he walks to first, as if the sun is still shining overhead. Hobbs doesn’t want it to be the last he sees of his best friend, but if it is, he won’t look away. 

_Not him. Please. Anyone but him._

The next day, when Richmond survives and Workman doesn’t, Hobbs feels guilty for having thought it, though he knows he’s already guilty of far more than being foolish enough to hope.

9.

Jaylen’s pitches make people flicker now. No more deaths. Just being torn away from everything you care about, instead.

Feedback was _supposed_ to be less dangerous, but it’s landed them here, all because Hobbs was angry about missing his best friend. Yes, he did it for everyone, to send the gods a message, to save _someone_ , and many people helped, but still, all twelve of those deaths are on his hands more than Jaylen’s.

Nobody talks to him anymore. Some of them try, but he doesn’t let them, no matter what they want to say. He can’t even face Richmond.

10.

The umpires still have plenty of fire. This one’s eyes are alight, smoke behind steel, death returning to the field. The Tigers are there. _Richmond_ is there. Hobbs steps forward. He won’t watch anyone else burn.

It’s him they want, anyway. He dared to undo their first crime. Committed a crime of his own. They all know where he belongs.

He doesn’t look at his best friend. _I’m sorry, Richmond._

**HERETIC** , the umpire growls.

Hobbs spits in its face. Always a Moist Talker, even at the end.

“Get bent,” he says, and lets the flames consume what’s left of him.

11.

The Trench is achingly like the Underarena. Cold, damp, dark, and full of secrets.

But above all, this place is full of ghosts, and empty of the person he most wants to see. As soon as he splashes down into the depths, the waves already starting to soothe the unbearable heat of the fire, they all call out to him with curiosity and concern.

_Hobbs, Hobbs…_ the voices tug at his heart, lost and lonely. Demanding things from him. _Talk to us._

_Go away_ , he snarls, sinking deeper, wanting the tide to wash it all away. He’s haunted enough already.

12.

Hobbs Cain is alone.

He wanders the Trench’s depths, knowing there’s nothing to be found but more solitude. An endless ocean of night, illuminated only by the occasional appearance of moonlike eyes in the distance, watching. Making sure he stays dead. 

The Hall sits above, rooms full of ghosts dreaming their half-awake dreams together. Twelve of them dead because of him. Elijah. Tony. Workman. His own teammates. 

But not Richmond. He’s alive, up on the surface where he belongs.

If being here is the price to pay to keep his best friend safe, Hobbs will go on paying it, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic owes a lot to all the wonderful MT fans who have made Hobbs and Richmond content and fueled my ~~extreme sadness~~ love for these two! In particular, Hobbs' death scene was partly inspired by [Spiral_Joe's comic](https://twitter.com/Spiral_Joe/status/1313161181088026624), and the post-reverb paragraph was inspired by a delightful conversation in orb-corner back in season 5, which I still think about from time to time. Those were the days...
> 
> Until I wrote this, I didn't fully register the implications of Hobbs being the first player to die after the instability-related incinerations stopped, but now I am Thinking About It...
> 
> I was initially pretty intimidated to tackle the 12x100 format, but I ended up finding it incredibly fun and easier than I expected! I highly recommend giving it a try if you haven't already.
> 
> anyway I am still very sad about Hobbs Cain


End file.
